


Gun Point

by Groot_the_tree



Series: Whumptober 2019 [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (Downey films), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Angst, Gun Violence, Hurt John Watson, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, John Needs A Hug, John is a Bit Not Good, M/M, Post-Reichenbach, Sad John, Whumptober, either way, gun point, whumptober2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-24 20:36:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20913737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Groot_the_tree/pseuds/Groot_the_tree
Summary: Sherlock looks around the small, dark and cold room he was locked in. It was obvious he was taking inventory of the room, and, essentially, there was nothing.





	Gun Point

**Author's Note:**

> The rest of these have been Marvel/Avengers but I will be mixing some Sherlock in there just because.

Sherlock looks around the small, dark and cold room he was locked in. It was obvious he was taking inventory of the room, and, essentially, there was nothing. A dark room with basically no light, one door, locked. How smart, Sherlock thinks as he rolls his eyes. And nothing else. 

The walls were brick, the floor was concrete. The whole scene was very cliche. He hated everything about it. 

He wasn’t sure how long he had been there, certainly not too long but being unconscious and not having access to the sun or a clock could make it impossible to keep up with time. He did know, however, that it had been a while. He sighs, falling to the floor, already bored out of his mind, surly it would rot while he was in here. 

It was forever later, not literally of course but to the bored detective it felt like it. In fact, it was only twenty four minutes and thirty seven seconds. Someone open the door and Sherlock stands up, ready for whatever menial task he is ask to perform, thinking it was another of those idiots.  
What he wasn’t expecting, however, was for someone to come in with a gun, okay that wasn’t the surprising part, it was the fact they had John in front of them, gun held to his head as he stares at Sherlock, fear in his eyes. 

Oh how many times they have been in this position. 

Sherlock holds up his hands, realizing this was more serious than he had expected, no one hurts his John and gets away with it. 

“Whatever you want, whatever you need, just tell me.” He says, keeping his voice calm and even, not wanting to upset them further though, knowing he’s not as good at this without John standing next to him, telling him what was and wasn’t okay, he had been getting better.

“It’s too late now, Mr. Holmes.” A rough voice says, clearly the man holding John.

Sherlock thought the voice was familiar but he couldn’t quite place it. His mind gets to work on that while he tries to solve the more pressing situation. 

“It is too late for what?” Sherlock asks, still trying to stay calm, even though he notices the hand on the trigger tighten fractionally. 

“You know what.” The voice replies.

Sherlock has to fight the urge to roll his eyes, conversations like this could be so very tedious. He hated them with a passion. 

“I am afraid I do not.” He says, trying not to grow tired and give up. For John, he would never though he could see the man was afraid. 

“You should.” The voice says and Sherlock grinds his teeth. “You’re a genius after all, figure it out. It was all your fault.”

“If it was mind then why do you have John?” He asks, trying to keep the smartarse out of his voice, it wouldn’t help at a time like this, he knew. 

“Because….Because…”

Sherlock allows a small smirk, apparently the conversationalist didn’t have a response for that one. “Then why don’t you let him go?” He asks, pausing a second before finishing. He already knew John wasn’t going to like it, “And just taking it out on me instead?” 

John started to shake his head but the barrel pressing into the side of his head stopped him.

The man drops Watson, the gun turning to Sherlock instead and, without a second thought, he pulled the trigger. 

***

The doctor sets straight up in an empty bed, gasping and trying to remember where he was. 

It was obvious where he was.

**Author's Note:**

> I was writing this thinking about John's mind, post-Reichenbach, trying to tell him Sherlock had done what he done to protect John and keep him safe. So not really character death.


End file.
